


The Stand-In

by thesherlockianwhjustcant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, De-Aged Derek Hale, Eventual Smut, Lawyer Peter, M/M, Peter-centric, Sassy Peter, Slow Burn, Smut, all the sass, derek is like 14
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesherlockianwhjustcant/pseuds/thesherlockianwhjustcant
Summary: Peter doesn't have a lot of time, not with his high-demand job as one of the state's best defense attorneys. He certainly doesn't have time to take care of two barely-teenagers. But, when his sister's house catches fire and kills nearly everyone but two of her children, he has to make time. He thought passing off the parenting job to the next-door college student would solve more problems than it would create. He was wrong.*first time writing Steter, wish me luck





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So this is my first time writing Steter, and I hope it doesn't suck. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> ~thesherlockianwhojustcant

“I don’t understand why we need a babysitter!” Derek shouted at Peter.

Peter huffed out a sigh. He was going to be late for court, and he  _ couldn’t _ be late to court. What was Talia thinking, leaving her kids to him if anything happened to her? He shook his head and responded to Derek condescendingly. “Because you’re fourteen, and Cora is barely eleven.” Derek opened his mouth to protest further. “And, I honestly don’t trust you enough to leave you by yourself all the time. Someone needs to feed you and make sure you do your homework and... to  _ parent _ you.”

“Yeah!  _ You _ ! _You’re_ supposed to do all those things!” Derek’s voice cracked a bit at the end, product of puberty, Peter assumed. 

Peter sighed. “Look, there is nothing more that I want to do than to sit here and argue back and forth with you, nephew.” Derek’s jaw clenched tightly. “However, I have to be in court in twenty minutes, and  _ you _ have to be in class. So, get.” He punctuated his command with a little flick of his wrist.

Derek opened his mouth and closed it a few more times before finally stomping out of the kitchen in a rage, grabbing his backpack on the way out of the house. 

_ Teenagers _ , Peter thought. Boy, was he happy to never have had kids. He wished he didn’t need to arrange a sitter--for lack of a better word--for Derek and Cora, but he worked long hours, and he needed to be sure they were eating more than Twinkies and pizza every night for dinner. Some days, Peter didn’t even make it home from the office. He guessed he’d have to always make sure to come home now, but this was all a lot to get used to very quickly. So, he’d bet that having an extra hand around the house to help with Cora and Derek would help him out. At least until Cora was older. And Peter let go of his untrustworthy nature...

Maybe just until Cora was older.

Today, Peter was meeting with a few potential “sitters” (as he had been for the past few days) and he hoped to find one soon. He’d only had Derek and Cora for a couple weeks, and already, it was much more than Peter had  _ ever _ signed up for. Not only had he lost his sister, but he’d gained two children who’d lost their whole family... It’d been a rough two weeks. 

Cora came down the stairs, then, ready for school. She took her book bag off the hook next to the door and gave Peter a quick wave and a, “bye, Uncle Peter” before leaving for school. Finally, he could leave for work. 

By the time he’d gotten his coffee and briefcase and actually got on the road, he had eight minutes to get to court on time. He sighed a long, drawn out sigh. He needed to get the kids up earlier. Or, better yet, make sure the “sitter” could come in the mornings too.

*****

Needless to say, court did not go well. Peter was one of the best defense attorneys in the state of California, and he was about to go on a losing streak. He lost his last case out of a simple  _ my-client-was-actually-guilty-and-I-couldn’t-do-much-to-convince-them-otherwise _ scenario, but he still managed to keep the guy off death-row,  _ and _ he got the judge to allow his client to serve his terms concurrently instead of consecutively, so he still has a chance at parole. In that kind of situation, it was the best outcome Peter could have hoped for. But, this case? This one he was going to lose because he was doing a shitty job. He got the case just before Talia died, and he had been excited for it because it should have been an open and shut case. 

Three funerals and one surprise witness later, and here he was, struggling to make his case. He hated this. He hated losing. 

He was currently sitting in a cafe and going over some of the files, hoping to find something he missed the first time around and waiting for the first potential “sitter” to arrive for her interview. He, of course, hadn’t missed anything in the files the first time, so he was actually  _ relieved _ when an elderly woman came up to him asking if he was Mr. Hale. For the first time in a long time, he was happy to put aside work and focus on something else. 

The first interview didn’t take long. Peter kept it short because it was clear she wasn’t meant for the job. The second one took a bit longer, but he still didn’t think it was a good fit. Finally, the third person showed some serious promise, and he promised to call her soon with an answer. 

He could have offered her the job right then and there, but something was holding him back. He didn’t know what it was, but something told him she wasn’t quite right for the job either. Since he was done with that for the day, and he couldn’t stand to look over his notes any longer, Peter decided to call it a day and head home early. He was even going to beat both Derek and Cora home. 

When he turned onto his street, Peter noticed a large moving truck outside the house next to his and two men, one young, the other middle-aged, moving boxes into the house. Peter frowned as he pulled into his driveway. Was he really not home enough to notice the house next door had not only been for sale but had also  _ sold _ ?

As he stepped out of his car, he overheard who he assumed was the dad saying, “Look, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Moving back home is normal... and inexpensive.” So, the kid was moving back home from somewhere. Peter wasn’t a negligent neighbor after all.

He didn’t notice he was watching them until the kid gave him a little wave and said, “You wanna give us a hand, or does watching other people do manual labor do something for you?”

“ _Stiles_!”

“What? Your neighbor’s watching us like a hawk.”

Peter fought the smile that wanted to light his face and walked over to them. “Sorry, I was just trying to figure out if I was so unobservant that I hadn’t noticed the house next door to mine had sold... I’m Peter, by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever actually met.”

Stiles’ father shook his head. “No, we have never met in person. But I know who you are.” Peter narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’m Noah Stilinski, or as you may know me--”

“Ah, yes, Sheriff. How are you?”

The sheriff picked up a box from the U-haul and muttered, “I’d be doing a lot better if Jones was serving consecutive terms, but what’s one more murderer on parole?” He walked past Peter and into the house without another word.

“Damn, he does  _ not _ like you,” Stiles said.

Peter shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Stiles said sarcastically. Peter just raised an eyebrow. Stiles shook his head and picked up another box, so Peter figured it was his time to leave. As he turned away, though, Stiles shouted, “Hey, wait!” He turned back to look at Stiles over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any places hiring poor college students nearby, would you?”

Peter smirked. “Well, as a matter of fact, I know of a place within walking distance.”

“Really?” Stiles’ face lit up. “Sweet. Who’s hiring?”

“I am,” Peter said, causing Stiles’ smile to falter.

“Wait, seriously?”

Peter nodded. “I need someone to look after my niece and nephew for me when I’m not here... maybe when I am here too... They can be completely unbearable to be around sometimes.”

Stiles set the box he was holding down and walked closer to Peter. “How long are they staying with you?”

“Well, seeing as how their mother just died, I’d say until they go to college, that is if I am so lucky.”

Stiles’ face darkened. “I’m sorry to hear ab--”

“You interested?” Peter cut him off, he was sick of the pity. 

Stiles let it drop and shrugged. “Ah, what the hell? I love kids. When would I have to watch them?”

“Before school and after school until I get back from work if possible. You’d mostly just have to make sure they get to school on time and that they eat and sleep at a reasonable hour. Maybe help with the occasional homework question, but it should be easy.”

“Should is a four letter word. How old are they?”

“Fourteen and eleven.” Stiles started laughing a loud, riotous laugh, but Peter just frowned. Once Stiles realized he was serious, he stopped laughing abruptly.

“You’re kidding.”

“Why would I be kidding?”

“Because a fourteen year old and an eleven year old don’t need a babysitter.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “I really wouldn’t like to argue with you about how to raise my niece and nephew, but if you insist,” he exaggerated a shrug, “well, I can’t stop you.”

Stiles blinked a few times before saying, “Why the hell are you getting them a babysitter?”

Peter sighed. He really didn’t feel like having this conversation again. “Will you do it or not?”

Stiles looked him up and down for a moment, his eyes tracing over every inch of Peter’s body as if sizing him up, for what, Peter had no clue. But, finally, he nodded slightly and said, “Yeah, okay. I need the money any way.”

Peter nodded. “Good.” He checked his watch. “Derek gets home in about an hour. I’ll see you then.”

“Wait, you want me to start  _ today _ ?”

“If you’d rather I give the job to someone else, I can--”

“I’ll be there,” Stiles cut in.

Peter smiled triumphantly. “See you soon,” he said before turning away and going home. This was going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I was NOT expecting that kind of a response. Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments! It's much appreciated! 
> 
> So, here's the next chapter. I wouldn't get super used to this consistent updating if I were you because I'm about to get real busy. Just a warning. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

Peter sat down at his desk and rifled through some paperwork that his boss had given him earlier. Their firm was taking on a new client next week, and he wanted Peter to run the case, so naturally, Peter had paperwork to do and files to read. Sometimes that’s all Peter did for days on end: read. And, really, that was his favorite part of the job. He actually didn’t like court that much, talking to people, socializing with the client and the other lawyers... it was never his strong suit. Convincing a jury to make something go his way? Now, that he was good at, but every other aspect of court never agreed with him.

Sighing, Peter flipped open the new case file and was relieved to find that there should be no court-time in this one, just a simple deposition hearing that would lead to a settlement, if he played his cards right. And, he _always_ played his cards right.

Peter got so consumed in reading over the new case, making notes, and preparing arguments that he didn’t hear the doorbell ring twice, nor did he hear the loud knocks following it, and he _certainly_ didn’t hear the door open and someone walk in.

So, when Stiles yelled, “Hello?” at the top of his lungs, Peter jumped and nearly yelled out of shock.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he muttered. “I’m in my office, Stiles. Ever hear of knocking before entering another person’s home?”

Stiles appeared in Peter’s study’s doorway, shaking his head. “I _did_ knock. And rang the doorbell. You didn’t answer. Did you have earplugs in or something?”

Peter sighed. “I was just working. Sometimes, I get caught up in it and block out everything else.” He shook his head and stood up. “Well, I guess I should give you a little tour, huh?”

Stiles shrugged. “I guess so, it’s not like I’ve never been in a house before.”

“Really? Well, isn’t that swell?” Peter walked over to the door, gesturing down the hall. “You’ll see the bathroom is down there on the right.” Stiles stepped back a few paces and craned his neck to see. “And, right where you’re standing right now, that’s the outside of my study.” He gave Stiles a mocking smile before saying, “All right, good tour,” and swinging his study door shut.

Stiles gave an incredulous, “Ah, come on,” and Peter couldn’t help but snicker. “What am I supposed to do if your nephew shows up?”

“I didn’t know I had to teach you how to talk to people,” Peter remarked.

Stiles groaned in frustration. “Oh my god, you’re impossible. I met you an hour ago, and already, you’re impossible. What the hell am I doing?”

“Right now, you’re annoying me,” Peter answered, knowing it’d just row the younger man up.

He was right. Stiles let out another groan of frustration and said, “Jesus Christ, _you’re_ the annoying one.”

“Wow, good come back.”

“Oh, shut up,” Stiles grumbled. Peter couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips. This was too fun. “Oh my _god_. You’re enjoying this. _Why_ did I think this would be a good idea?”

Peter shook his head and finally reopened the door as he heard a bus drive up his street. “Because from what I gathered, you need the money.” Stiles just sighed as a response to that. “That should be Derek’s bus. I’ll introduce you two, and then I’ll have to get back to work. I am _swamped_.”

“Derek’s the older one, right?” Peter nodded. “Why can’t I just come over when the younger one gets home? Wouldn’t she need more supervision than a fourteen year old?”

“You would think,” Peter muttered as the front door swung open, and Derek stepped through.

He looked up, and upon finding Peter standing with Stiles, frowned and said, “Who the hell is he?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “ _Manners_ , nephew, _manners_. This is Stiles. He’s going to--”

“No.” Peter raised an eyebrow as Derek cut him off. “No. Come on, Peter, he’s like three years older than me! You can’t seriously think _he’s_ more responsible than I am! I can take care of myself.”

Again, Peter rolled his eyes at his nephew’s dramatics. “He’s not seventeen, Derek.” He gave Stiles a look asking him to reaffirm his statement, and Stiles shook his head.

“I’m nineteen,” Stiles said.

“Yes, you see? He’s ninet--wait, _nineteen_?” Stiles nodded. “I thought you were moving home from college... as in you’d graduated.”

Stiles shook his head. “You really think I look like I’m twenty-two? Come on, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“See?” Peter refocused on Derek. “He’s only five years older than me. How can he tell me what to do?”

“Well, let’s see. Stiles, do you know how to cook a full meal that wasn’t frozen before-hand?” He hoped for the love of everything that Stiles said yes because he knew Derek’s answer was no.

“Yes, of course I do. My dad never--” Peter didn’t care, so he cut him off.

“And, you, Derek, can you?” Derek’s frown deepened, but he didn’t answer. “He’s not going to _babysit_ you. He’s going to do things for you that you don’t know how to do when I can’t do them, okay? Now, would you swallow whatever it is that’s causing you to be a complete ass and come over here and shake this nice man’s hand?”

Derek gave him a hard look before slowly walking over to them and shaking Stiles’ hand. “Nice to meet you,” Stiles said politely even though he had no reason to be polite. Derek grunted as a way of saying _nice to meet you too_ before releasing Stiles’ hand and escaping to his room upstairs. Peter groaned internally when he heard the door slam. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Peter, you’re going to be winning all the parenting awards this year, I can just feel it.”

Peter clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to slap Stiles upside the head before retreating back into his study. He heard Stiles laugh quietly just before he closed the door.

Apparently, he was having just as much fun as Peter.

*****

Peter read over the sentences he’d just read again and again, trying desperately to find a loophole that would give his client some leeway. He was frowning so deeply, his forehead started to hurt. He vaguely heard a door open and someone walking around, but he paid it no mind. That was until something hit him in the head.

He jerked his head up and found Stiles standing before his desk wearing a smirk. Peter sighed deeply and looked back down at his work. “I told you not to bother me.”

“Well, actually, you never _explicitly_ said that.” Peter suppressed a frustrated groan. “But, I’m here because I think your niece’s bus just drove by. You should introduce us.”

Peter underlined the sentences he was looking at so that he could find them later and then stood up. “Oh, I suppose you’re right.” He followed Stiles out of the study, and they emerged into the living room just as the front door opened and Cora walked in.

“Hey, Uncle Peter, I’m--” Cora cut herself off when she caught sight of Stiles.

“Cora, this is Stiles. He’s going to give me a hand and watch you and Derek before and after school since I work so much,” Peter said nicely. Unlike his nephew, Peter’s niece wasn’t going to explode and fight him on this.

She did frown slightly, though, and say, “But, Mom used to just let Laura watch us.” Cora’s face darkened slightly as she realized what exactly she just said. Peter pitied her, then, and he clenched his jaw. Cora shook it off, though, and continued, “Derek’s only a little younger than Laura, can’t he just be in charge while you’re gone?”

Peter released a breath. Why couldn’t either of them just accept this? “Because I’m going to be gone a lot more often than your mom was, Cora. Sometimes, I work from six in the morning to midnight. And, I need to know that you guys are going to school and eating.”

Cora nodded. “I guess you’re right.” She turned to Stiles and smiled a small smile.

“Nice to meet you, Cora,” Stiles said as a way of greeting.

Her face reddened for a reason unknown to Peter, and she stammered out a “nice to meet you too.”

“Well, since you two are acquainted, I must get back to work.” Peter started to turn back to his study, but Cora stopped him.

“Wait, I need you to sign something for school. They said you were supposed to sign it when you registered me, but you never did, so I brought it home with me and you--”

“Yes, yes, what is it?” Peter cut her off before she could ramble any longer than necessary. It was a simple form, allowing her to be assessed by the school nurse in cases of emergency. After he’d signed it, he gave it back to her and was able to return to his study and get back to work. He heard Stiles make a snarky remark as he closed the door, but he didn’t process it because his brain had already switched back to work-mode.

Somehow, as he’d been reading and signing that stupid school form, Peter had found that loophole he was looking for. He made some notes as he sat down at his desk and began crafting his argument for the next day at court. Maybe, he wouldn’t lose this one after all. Peter worked for a long few hours, his thoughts drowning out all the outside noises from the rest of the house, and he didn’t stop until it was almost seven o’clock. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.

A knock sounded on his door, and he said, “Come in.”

Stiles poked his head in. “I half-expected you not to answer. I, uh, made dinner.” Peter raised his eyebrows at that. He’d forgotten about dinner.

“Is there something you’d like me to do with that information, or...?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Good god, man, are you ever easy to talk to?” He shook his head before continuing, “It’s on the table. Come eat.”

He left before Peter could respond. Peter just smiled slightly and followed him out to the dining room, where dinner had been served. Cora was sitting on the left side of the table, fixing her plate, and she smiled when Peter walked in. Derek was nowhere to be seen.

Stiles came into the dining room from the kitchen, carrying the salt and pepper and took a seat next to Cora. He started filling up his own plate, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to sit down yet. “Where’s your brother?” He asked Cora. She shrugged.

“I called for him, but he didn’t answer,” Stiles claimed.

Peter rolled his eyes. Why did Derek have to be such a typical teenager? “I’ll get him,” he said as he left the room. He walked upstairs and knocked on Derek’s door. “Derek?” No answer. Peter tried to open the door, but it was locked. _Dammit,_  he thought. He’d meant to remove the locks from their doors. “Derek, open the door.” Still no answer. “These locks are incredibly easy to pick. Don’t think I won’t do it.” A few more moments of silence passed before Peter heard the click of the door unlocking. Since Derek didn’t open the door himself, Peter opened it for him and found Derek laying on his bed, doing something on his phone. Peter walked up to him and snatched it out of his hand.

“Hey!” Derek sat up and reached for his phone, but Peter pushed him back with one hand and held his phone as far from him as possible with the other.

“Next time I knock on your door, you answer, do you understand?”

Derek groaned. “Ugh, fine. Give me my phone.”

“No. You’re going to come downstairs and eat, and you’re going to do that _without_ your phone. You’re going to make stupid small-talk, and you’re going to suck it up and enjoy it. Then, you can come back up here and do whatever the hell you want.” Derek was fuming, but it was nothing Peter couldn’t handle. When Derek didn’t say anything, Peter said, “Either that, or I’ll take it away for a month.”

“A _month_? That’s not fair!”

“Which will it be, Derek?” Peter gave him a pointed look.

“Ugh, _fine_.” He got out of bed and pushed past Peter and went downstairs. Peter wasn’t far behind him, but before he joined the others downstairs, he glanced down at his nephew’s phone out of pure curiosity.

Derek had been reading old text messages. Between him and Talia. Peter read over the last few texts Derek had sent to her, and the ones she’d sent him, and for the first time since her funeral, Peter missed his sister. She’d been such a good mom, how was he supposed to live up to that? How was he supposed to step in and take over? He couldn’t.

Clenching his jaw, Peter slept Derek’s phone and tossed it onto his bed and left the room, joining the others moments later, no remnants of his previous emotions showing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! New chapter!! Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> As always, thanks for the kudos/comments! Y'all are the best!!

Dinner passed uneventfully. Peter was surprised at how quiet Cora was; Derek was always brooding about one thing or another, but Cora rambled incessantly. Not tonight, though. Tonight, she only piped up when asked a direct question. The rest of her time was spent watching Stiles, unless he looked her way, that is. Then, she looked at her food, and her cheeks reddened. Peter didn’t like where that was going. The last thing he needed was his niece crushing on her babysitter. 

After dinner, Peter retreated to his study once again for work, and he worked well past eleven. He yawned and rubbed his eyes just as he heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” he said through the yawn.

Stiles walked in and stood before his desk. “They’re off to bed. Cora’s probably asleep by now, she went up an hour or so ago. Derek might still be up, but he’s in his room for the night, I’d bet. So... I guess I’m done?”

Peter nodded. “Yes.” He stood up and stretched. “It went well today, I think.” Stiles nodded in agreement. “So, I can expect you here tomorrow morning? Will that work for you? I have to be in court by eight, and I need to leave by 7:15.”

Stiles eyes widened a bit at the earliness of Peter’s schedule, but he nodded anyway. “Uh, yeah, that should be fine... After Cora gets on the bus, I’m good to go, right? I have class from eleven to two.” Peter nodded. “Good. Then, I’ll come back here, I guess.”

“Sounds like a plan. Have a good night, then,” Peter meant it as a dismissal, as a goodbye, but Stiles didn’t move. “Something else you need?” If he weren’t so tired, Peter would taunt him, play with him a bit, but he was  _ way _ too tired for anything.

“Uh, we never, uh, talked about my, uh, fee...” Stiles trailed off awkwardly.

“Ah, yes,” Peter sat down at his desk again and rummaged around for his check book. “Let’s say that I’ll pay you at the beginning of every month. We’ll start with, say... 350?”

Stiles eyes bulged, but he quickly recovered. “Yeah! Uh, yes, that sounds good. Thank you.”

Peter finished writing the check and tore it off. He handed it to Stiles as he stood up once again. “Don’t mention it. I’ll see you tomorrow. 7:15, sharp.” Stiles nodded emphatically as they walked toward the front door. He gave an awkward wave as he left, and Peter watched him until his figure disappeared into the darkness next door. 

Shaking his head, he closed the door and locked up for the night. Then, he made his rounds, turning off all the lights and setting the security alarm for the night, before he made his way upstairs to his bedroom. He shed his shirt and trousers, and he was about to collapse into his warm, inviting bed and pass out when he heard a soft whimper from the room next to his. He paused for a moment, but he heard it again. Sighing, Peter threw on a T-shirt and some sweats before going to Cora’s room. 

He didn’t bother knocking before walking into her room. She was asleep, but not peacefully. Her head turned from side to side, and she moaned and groaned as if she were in pain. Then, she muttered a soft, “Mama,” and Peter observed her no more. He closed the small gap between himself and her bed and took a seat on the edge of it. She didn’t stir. Peter gently touched her shoulder, and her eyes flashed open. She gasped and said, “Laura? Mom?” Her eyes were still distant, still in the dream. 

Peter took ahold of both of her shoulders. “Cora,” he said, trying to catch her eyes, but they were moving all around the room. “Cora, look at me,” he said more firmly. Cora met his gaze, and the glaze over it melted away. She took a few deep breaths as she came back to reality. Then, her face scrunched up in a way all too familiar to Peter, and before he could do anything, she was crying. Trying not to sigh, Peter pulled her into a tight hug. He wasn’t good in these situations, but he guessed hugging was a good go-to. He was right. 

Cora latched onto him as if he were her life-source, and she cried softly into his shoulder. After a few minutes, her sobs quieted, and she regained some control. Peter pulled back and looked over his niece. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nose runny. She gave Peter a small, sad smile. “Sorry I woke you.”

“You didn’t wake me,” he whispered. 

She sniffled and wiped her nose. “It’s just... I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Peter clenched his jaw. This  _ really _ wasn’t his forte. “The fire?”

She nodded. “Derek and I were downstairs in the living room. It’s the only reason we got out... and now, every time I close my eyes...” She trailed off before imitating an ignition sound and moving her hands outward. “Flames. Everywhere.” She shook her head, pulling her knees to her and resting her head on them.

Peter wasn’t sure what to say. It was clear she and Derek had been through a trauma, but it’d never really occurred to him how that might affect them. He thought they were young enough to have to have a babysitter, but he didn’t even think about how young they were to lose their family.  _ I’m an idiot _ , Peter thought. “Do you want to talk to someone about all this? Would that help? I know a few psychologists if that’s something you’d want.”

Cora shook her head slowly. “No, I’m okay. I just need time, I guess.” She sounded a lot older than her age, just then, and Peter couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. Leave it to a Hale to decide to just power through. 

“Okay, then.” He stood up, ready to leave. “Will you be able to get back to sleep?” Cora nodded as she laid back down. “Good night,” he said, turning to leave. 

Just as he reached the door, Cora said, “Uncle Peter?”

He stopped and turned back to her. “Yes?”

She hesitated for a moment before saying, “Do you ever miss them? I mean, Mom and the others?”

Peter grimaced. “Go to sleep, Cora. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, he left the room and returned to his own. 

He tossed and turned for hours before finally falling asleep, his dreams riddled with memories of his sister.

Peter woke up the next morning to the doorbell ringing. He blinked his eyes open and peered over at the clock. He sprung out of bed when it read 7:14. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered. He threw on a shirt as he ran to answer the door. He turned off the security alarm before flinging the door open. He heard Stiles say something of a  _ good morning _ , but he didn’t stick around long enough to respond. He ran back upstairs and proceeded to get dressed as quick as he could. He decided against a tie because he simply didn’t have the patience for it today and ran back downstairs. Stiles was nowhere to be seen, but Peter couldn’t think about that now. He went to his study and collected all of his papers, putting them in his briefcase, and then moved onto the kitchen to grab his keys and a banana before leaving. He found Stiles waiting for him there, pouring a cup of coffee into a travel mug. He handed it to Peter with a smirk. “Not a word,” Peter warned before snagging his keys and leaving the house. He heard Stiles laugh just before the door closed, but he ignored it. 

He climbed into the driver’s seat and drove off to court, hoping he wouldn’t be late  _ again _ .

Peter managed to get there by five til eight, and he sighed a breath of relief as he took a seat at the defense desk. Not a minute later, the bailiff walked in with his client. He nodded to him as he sat down next to him. Peter took out his notes and started going over them with his client, showing him everything he’d found yesterday, and as he went on, his client’s face brightened a bit. 

“You might just save me after all,” he said when Peter was finished. 

Peter shrugged. “Just doing my job.” A moment later, the judge was announced, and then, court commenced. The prosecutor stood and delivered her straight-forward, bland closing statement. She said all of the things Peter thought she would, and she was done within a few minutes. 

This was it. Time for Peter to go out and win this thing. Turning on his bright, schmoozing smile, he stood up and began his closing argument. Pleasure swept through him as he watched the jurors’ expressions turn to sympathy for his client, as he watched them flip. He knew they’d buy into it, he knew they’d succumb to this argument. When in doubt, tug on people’s heartstrings. It never failed to work. People can’t sentence someone abused and neglected as a child to thirty years in prison, nor could they convict a mother of three, working four jobs, who has no other options than selling drugs to make an extra buck. At the end of the day, jurors were human, and humans could be corrupted. Peter knew that, and he use it against them. 

By the time Peter sat down, he knew he had over half the jury on his side, and he took their deliberating for only twenty minutes as a good sign... until they delivered a guilty verdict and chose to sentence his client to fifteen years. 

Peter left the courtroom as soon as he could, and he went straight to his office. All he could do now was consume himself with work, focus on the next case, and he’d win it. He’d have to. He couldn’t go on a losing streak. He  _ couldn’t _ . He was Peter fucking Hale, and he’d be damned if he lost another case.

*****

Peter sighed heavily and nearly screamed, " _What_?"  when someone knocked on his door loudly. It was almost eleven at night, and he hadn’t stopped working since noon. He was a bit on edge. 

His boss stood in the doorway with a blank expression on his face. Deucalion knew Peter didn’t  _ mean _ to answer rudely, so he ignored it. “Your phone has been ringing almost nonstop for thirty minutes. Are you going to answer it any time soon?”

Peter tore his attention away from his new casefile and realized he was right. His phone buzzed on the desk next to him, it was an unknown number. “This is Peter Hale,” he answered.

“Jesus, dude, took twenty calls before you finally answered.”

“What do you need, Stiles?”

“I  _ need _ to know when you’re going to be back tonight. I love hanging out here and all, but I want to sleep in my own bed.” Peter sighed. “Stop sighing, it’s not good for you,” Stiles teased.

“I’m leaving now, okay?” 

“Great, I await your arrival with bated breath.”

Peter rolled his eyes even though the younger man couldn’t see him and hung up the phone. He stood up and collected his things. As he put his suit jacket back on, he noticed Deucalion still standing in his doorway, a curious expression on his face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you leave before midnight,” he remarked.

Peter huffed out a laugh. “I’ve been leaving early for the past two weeks.” 

“Early for anyone else would be four.”

Peter rolled his eyes at his boss, who shrugged and let him be, and he was on his way home in no time. He stopped and grabbed a burger and ate it on the way. When he finally got home, he was exhausted and ready to collapse into his bed. 

He found Stiles asleep on the couch when he walked in. The kid was sleeping with his mouth open and his head resting against the back of the couch. He wasn’t snoring, and Peter would bet that if he were on his stomach, drule would be staining his pillow. Peter walked over to him and stood in front of him, unsure of how to go about this. He raked his eyes over Stiles’ sleeping form, and he couldn’t help but notice how...  _ cute _ Stiles looked like that. Ugh, Peter hated that word. But, it fit Stiles’ current position to a T. Peter looked over him again before shaking himself out of it and stepping closer, nudging Stiles awake. 

Stiles flailed slightly and blinked his eyes open. Once he recognized Peter standing before him, he stood up and stretched, his shirt riding up just enough for Peter to catch a glimpse of the smooth skin beneath. Not that Peter was looking or anything... 

“I didn’t think you were actually serious,” Stiles said through a yawn, which was adorable. Yet another word Peter  _ hated _ .

Peter frowned. “About what?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “About leaving the office right when you said you were. I thought you were being sarcastic or something.”

Peter just shook his head.

“You can’t blame me.  _ You’re  _ the one who’s a sarcastic ass.” Stiles smirked when Peter glared at him. And, dammit, if  _ that _ wasn’t... you know what, no, it wasn’t anything. Peter was completely  _ unaffected _ by the adorable, cute, hot young man standing in front of him. He was. And he  _ certainly _ wasn’t affected by the way Stiles’ eyes traveled down to his lips for the briefest moment. He wasn’t. Not. At. All.

“Well, I was, so you are relieved.”

Stiles nodded. “Awesome.” He made no effort to leave. “See you tomorrow?”

“Unless you don’t want the job anymore.”

Stiles laughed. “Ha, well, tomorrow  _ is _ Saturday. I wasn’t sure if you’d be working.”

Peter gave him a level look. “I might not go into the office, but I will be working. And I need you to... distract them.”

“Can’t I distract _you_? Wouldn’t that be more fun?” Stiles’ tone was just the slightest bit suggestive, but the look he gave Peter definitely was. But Peter wasn’t affected. Nope. He didn’t look at Stiles lips, you’re imagining things. 

Peter turned away and started walking to the front door, assuming Stiles would follow. He did. Peter opened the door and gestured for Stiles to leave, saying, “Not unless you like getting spanked.” Stiles face turned beet-red, and he was suddenly very eager to get home. “See you tomorrow, Stiles.” 

Stiles stammered a, “see ya” and practically ran back to his house. 

Peter smirked as he closed the door and locked up for the night. Moments later, he was falling into his bed, prepared to sleep immediately. But, he stayed up, tossing and turning, his excitement for tomorrow making him wired. 

Excitement for his new case, of course. Why else would he be excited? 


End file.
